


A Palpitating Hope

by Fox_Salz



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Casteism | Hemophobia (Homestuck), Dream Bubbles (Homestuck), Gen, References to Canon, Self-Hatred, Self-Worth Issues, Zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 17:53:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30143316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fox_Salz/pseuds/Fox_Salz
Summary: While lamenting his lot in the afterlife, Eridan runs into a Maryam who wants to keep him company.
Relationships: Eridan Ampora & Porrim Maryam
Kudos: 4





	A Palpitating Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Posting up my fic for the Eridan zine [Wwicked](https://twitter.com/wwickedzine/status/1370104992791552001)! There were so many good pieces that you should definitely check out.

You’re an asshole. A self serving, pathetic, unlovable asshole.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore. You’re dead. Just another of the stupid dead ghosts shuffling around dreambubbles. Whether you want to or not.

You are firmly in the latter camp. The place sucks, the people suck, the reminders suck.

Scowling one last time at this version of you—a cretin smiling and holding hands with his Kar—you step into another bubble.

Ah, the beach. The sight and sound of the ocean, even just as a palpable memory, instantly brightens your mood. The gently rolling waves are gorgeous. Nostalgia for a lifetime ago fills you.

A sigh escapes you and your shoulders sag. Maybe Alternia was a miserable shithole where you fed your now ex moirail’s terrible lusus or else let it all be destroyed by her screams, sure, but it was also your home. The place where all your good memories come from, as few and far between as they are. Memories that hurt now. Of friends you can’t bear to encounter in these dream bubbles.

You don’t want to think about all that. Any of it. Before or during your session. You don’t really want to think period; you’ve done nothing but think and think and overthink only to act on instinct when it came down to it. It’s time to just clear your mind, alone, and let yourself—

Oh, glub.

Of course. Of fucking course you aren’t alone even here. Your luck continues its stream of consistent shittiness as a pair of figures pop out of the water: two giggling Fefs.

Your walkstubs are carrying you out of this bubble before you even really register it. You cross the threshold just as one of them says, “I sea an Erifin!”

Thankfully you nope right out of there before any conversation can happen or they drag you back there. That thought alone is enough to get you hyperventilating.

You lean against the nearest solid object to steady yourself yet end up sliding to the ground. You close your eyes as you try to calm yourself down. Technically they didn’t talk _to_ you, it’s fine. Just more familiar faces in a sea of memories that you’ll never encounter again. Well, not those particular ones, anyway. Plenty of other versions out there. A thought that just builds back up your always waiting dread.

Pitiful. That’s what you are down at your very core. Pitiful but never pitiable. Just a pathetic grub who runs and hides or destroys instead of simple things that everyone else is capable of like _connecting_. You don’t deserve their company.

You can’t _bare_ it.

“I hate to intrude, but you don’t seem like you’re doing alright.”

You give a start, eyes flying open wide to stare at the silky voice that spoke. An undignified squeak of terror escapes. Those mismatched horns are the first things you notice. For a split second you think Kanaya’s found you and is going to do something to you that you so very much deserve, but then you realize how long her hair is, the piercings, the tattoos swirling over skin peeking out of her immodest dress. Not your Maryam.

You swallow and try to compose yourself. Try, not necessarily succeed. At least you manage to get out a response.

“Wwhatevver do you mean? I’m happily dead ovver here, thank you vvery much.”

Her lips quirk upwards. She holds out her hand and you glance at it unsurely.

“I’m Porrim.”

You...have no idea what to do. It’s ambiguous if she’s holding out her hand to help you up or for a handshake. There’s no way you can accept the former, no matter how far you’ve fallen. Like, yes obviously you would love to. But first of all, who the hell would want to help _you_ up? Second, well. It’s a matter of pride.

Fuck it, you’re already sitting on the floor undignified, vaguely realizing that there might have been tears in your white eyes. You are both a seadweller and a prince, sure, but this isn’t Alternia nor are you even a relevant player anymore. And you _want_ to take her hand.

So you do.

You feign a haughty air that you worry might have never been fully genuine. Shoving that thought to the back of your mind that’s already so cramped, you straighten your clothes. It’s more for show and to busy yourself so you’re not looking at her. You can only do that for so long before it just gets awkward, however, so you cast your gaze back on Por. She seems both amused and something softer which brings heat to your face. Glub, you better not be blushing. Haven’t you suffered enough?

Clearing your throat you say, “Wwell.” A pause. Fuck you have no idea what to say. What a mess you’ve become (or always were). “I like your dress.”

“Thank you. I dig the cape. It looks good on you.”

Your fins perk up. Like a barkbeast being called a good boy, you can’t resist a compliment. Especially something about fashion from someone who obviously understands it. The only person who ever understood fashion on the same caliber as you was Kan; you need this.

“So,” she speaks up again, “do I get your name, too?”

“Eridan Ampora.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Eridan.”

The sentiment makes you cringe with self loathing. Not wanting to dwell on how much no one should enjoy meeting you, let alone get to know you, you quickly reply, “It’s refreshin’ to meet someone wwho actually knowws howw to dress.”

“I will admit that there are certainly some of us around the bubbles who have questionable tastes. At least it’s not just from my group.”

You can’t help snickering along with her.

“The majority a trolls from my timeline havve no fashion sense at all. It’s like their lusus still dresses them.”

“Not everything changed from one world to the other.”

You let out a genuine laugh like you haven’t in...a very long time. It feels good.

“I was thinking about taking a walk somewhere else. I think I’ve had enough of this place for a century. I’d appreciate some company.”

For the first time you take in your surroundings. This is...Beforus, you think. A dead ringer for Alternia, if not for the missing moon. Inhospitable desert all around, with the occasional rock or boulder to break up the monotony, like what you had apparently collapsed against when you reached this place. It makes you think of where Kan lived, though you don’t spot a hive nearby.

“Not a pleasant area to wwander,” you agree. “Too drab. Let’s get out a here.”

Because you are a gentletroll and your lusus raised you right, you offer Porrim your arm which she takes without hesitation. In turn she offers you a smile that tricks your pump biscuit into thinking it’s alive again. Clearing your throat you lead the way into another bubble.

Since neither of you have any particular memory in mind the bubbles subject you to their whims. A winding forest path that leads to a treehive where you see a troll with the most atrocious attire that the two of you snicker about. Rooftops that must be from earth, a blazing sun baring down on you while one of the humans throws down some impressive slam poetry with two different Tavs. An obnoxious encounter with someone you still find it hard to believe could ever grow up to be the amazing Orphaner Dualscar. There’s something charming about his outfit, you have to admit, but it’s completely ruined anytime he opens his mouth. Regardless, Por swerves you out of there with a quickness into a new bubble.

This time you’re wandering some Alternian hiveblock. It’s quiet and empty unlike how a hiveblock usually is. Especially in an obviously lowblood neighborhood like this.

You never found yourself in areas like this very much, having your own hive secluded away as it was, so you don’t know your way around. The pair of you just wander in companionable silence. It’s nice. When was the last time you felt this peaceful around someone? Hell, peaceful in general. Certainly not since being dead, and long before playing the game.

Fuck you miss Kar and Kan and Fef and what you used to have with each of them. You miss your flarping buddies. You miss _so much_ , and it’s all your fau—

“Shit shit shit, heads up!”

The warning comes too late as something comes sailing right at you, colliding with your face and sending you to the ground. Your auditory clots ring for a moment, the sky swirling. You’re vaguely aware of voices, of Por leaning over you with worry on her face. _Faces_ because you’re seeing double. Wonderful.

Why do ghosts feel pain? Just one more cosmic joke at your expense.

You start evening out and Por helps you sit up. Her concern is touching. You know you don’t deserve any sympathy but you can’t help lapping it up like a dehydrated meowbeast.

“Are you alright?”

“Can ghosts get concussed?”

“Strangely enough yes, but we recover much quicker than when we were alive.”

She smiles in a way that makes your chest ache so you cast your eyes away. They land on an upside down skateboard beside you, one of its wheels still spinning. Your brow furrows but before you can question it the answers march right up to you, snickering.

“Heh, looks like your board hit something thick, MT. Amazing it didn’t break.”

You’d know that speech impediment and quirk anywhere. Ignoring the second—Beforus—Captor who races dramatically to his fallen skateboard, you gaze over at Sollux. Not your Sol, that much is clear from the beginning. The strange thing about the bubbles is you can always tell who’s from your timeline. Even without that ability, however, there are differences you can easily spot from years of obsessing over him. He seems...lighter in the way he carries himself. Less burdened. You wonder how much of that is from death, then wonder what it must be like to feel happier after dying. He probably wasn’t the cause of several deaths, or dooming both your friends and entire race.

“What’s wrong, ED, did he knock your one braincell out?”

The words are more teasing than mocking and fuck you really don’t know how to handle that. You’re so useless in every regard it’s amazing you ever managed to function.

He’s looking at you expectedly, and panic once again bubbles up. Old defense mechanisms reignite and before you can stop yourself supercilious words are falling from your mouth.

“Infinite bubbles and I still manage to run into a stinkin’ pissblood.”

You can _feel_ Porrim’s disapproval. She remains silent, however.

“Wow, what an asshole,” Sol snickers, seemingly unbothered.

The heat of shame washes over you. Which only makes you double down on your awfulness when Sol holds out a hand to you. You slap it away and push yourself up. Why does he have to look so amused? It just urges on that part of you always ready to lash out. Petulantly you cross your arms with a pompous sniff.

“This bubble is obvviously beneath me. I’m leavvin’ before I havve to be subjected to any further indignities.”

As you start walking off Sol remarks, “And nothing of value was lost.”

“Cretin,” you snap back, turning to him. You catch Por’s disapproving look.

Not disapproving, worse: disappointed.

Pump biscuit dropping to your stomach, you whirl around and stalk off. Well, there you go ruining another good thing before it was even taking off. Now you get to be all alone again. Which is fine. Perfect even! Isn’t that what you wanted to begin with, after all?

You pull your cape tight around your arms.

Just as you’re about to cross into another bubble you feel a presence by your side again. Your eyes dart that way, widening at Por. She’s staring straight ahead so you hurriedly do the same.

There’s sand beneath your walking stubs again. It’s an area cut off from the rest of the beach by high rocks. The water sloshes against your shoes before retreating back into the ocean. You stand there watching the cycle, not bothering to step out of the water’s reach.

For a long moment neither of you speak. It grates on you. The expected and inevitable rejection. You just want it over with so you can go back to wallowing. _Alone_.

“Wwell?” you finally demand.

“I can understand saying things you don’t necessarily mean from a place of anger or hurt.”

Not what you were expecting. You sneak another glance at her, watching as Por sits gracefully on a nearby rock. She catches you, and you tense as she offers a soft smile before patting the spot beside her. For a moment you hesitate. Ultimately you give in, though, stomping over and plopping down with a huff like a wiggler in the midsts of a fit. You purposefully face away from her, glaring out at the receding waves.

After a moment where you don’t say anything she sighs.

“You’re young, Eridan.”

“I’m dead.”

“You’re not the only one.”

A knife in your scarred midsection that makes you wince.

“I’m talking from a place of experience, you know. You’ve met the people in my timeline. There are a lot of hard feelings all around. I’ve said regrettable things before. Maybe I didn’t always take certain matters that affected my friends as seriously as I should have. The important thing is I learned and I grew.”

“And then you died along wwith evveryone else.”

“I’ve changed since being dead, actually. Many of us have. I...can’t say it’s always been for the better.“

“Is that supposed to be reassurin’?”

“Hm. Just focus on the change part.”

You let out a derisive snort. That doesn’t deter her. As stubborn as your Maryam.

“You can start over, Eridan. Change.”

“Howw am I supposed to do that wwhen I’m dead?”

“Don’t let death be an excuse,” she replies calmly but firmly. “We may be dead, but I’ve been here for epochs. I still exist, and you still exist, and while I don’t know how much longer that’ll be the case it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. You made some poor decisions before, yes. Acknowledge that, then do better. Everything from this point on is your choice, Eridan. And your first choice needs to be whether you _want_ to improve yourself or wallow alone.”

You mull that over. It’s hard not to outright dismiss her. She seems so genuine, though, like she truly believes in you. All at once that hurts and makes you feel something stirring that you haven’t dared to feel for a good minute.

Hope.

You lean back, claws digging into the craggy rock. After a moment you feel her hand beside yours, just close enough to let you have a solid, tangible assurance of her belief in you. It’s more comforting than you would have imagined. You’re so pathetic and needy for any scrap of attention.

Still, the words are...nice. You almost believe her. It might not be completely awful to give it a try.

**Author's Note:**

> I adore all reactions between any Ampora and any Maryam, it's my weakness.


End file.
